


Not Ever

by Depressedstressedlemonzest



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale comforts Crowley, Aziraphale loves Crowley, Chubby Aziraphale, Crowley has nightmares, Crowley loves Aziraphale, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Sex, No Smut, St. James Park, The Ritz, a day late and a dollar short, crowley feels guilty, crowley is emotional and that's okay, hand holding, ineffable holiday prompt, right after the apocalypse that wasn't, two prompts in one because I'm as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressedstressedlemonzest/pseuds/Depressedstressedlemonzest
Summary: Crowley wakes up from a nightmare about the bookshop being on fire, he admits to Aziraphale that he has nightmares about it, about losing him.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 85
Collections: An Ineffable Holiday 2019





	Not Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is for @soft-angel-aziraphale prompt list on tumblr, it's a combination of prompts since I'm behind, "a walk in the park " and "the ritz"
> 
> There is possible triggers when Crowley has his nightmares and when he talks about them.
> 
> And yes I know it's alot of angst for a holiday prompt list. But I promise what i WAS going to write was MUCH angstier.

St. James Park, as if there were any other park for the pair to be in.  
This park was their history, their secret meetings, their break ups, their make ups, their swap, their temptations.  
This park was their park.

The notpocolypse had happened.  
The swap back had happened.  
Dining at the Ritz had happened.  
And now...

The walking path was a patchwork quilt of fallen autumn leaves, reds, yellows, browns, all crunching beneath their feet from the early morning frost that threatened to turn to a snowfall later in the day.  
The gray skies were bright from the sun just barely popping the cusp of the morning.  
The brisk air was chilly enough to make their breaths visible in the atmosphere. 

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, whose hands were jammed deep into his jacket pockets, his mouth pulled in a scowl, bottom lip threading between his teeth sporadically, his brow furrowed making the etchings on his forehead more pronounced. His crimson hair was barely any shape, mussed from sleep and haphazardly sticking in all directions, Crowley hadn't even ran a comb through it before leaving the bookshop.  
The demon's long legs were keeping a steady pace with Aziraphale, but he could tell they wanted to run, move quicker, keep going.  
Aziraphale turned his ring around his finger a few times as his thoughts went to what happened to lead them here.

He had been reading at his desk when he heard muffled noises from the sofa where Crowley had fallen asleep.  
Curious he had gotten up to check what was going on.  
Crowley had been sleeping under one of the tartan blankets Aziraphale had set out for him, but when Aziraphale walked in he was tossing and turning under it, thrashing, whimpering.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called, worried.

"I can't find you." Crowley had mumbled with a grimace.

"Crowley, dear." Aziraphale said somewhat louder, approaching the slumbering serpent.

"Killed my best friend!" Crowley had shouted with a whimper. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale shouted placing a plump hand on his shoulder. 

Crowley's yellow eyes had flashed open at the touch and he sat straight up, blanket bunched to his chest, he was panting and a sheen of sweat covered his face. His head snapping back and forth looking around at the bookshop wildly.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale said tentatively.

Crowley's eyes flashed to Aziraphale with waves of different emotions crashing onto his face, despair, terror, wrath, relief, embarrassment. 

The demon yanked the blanket off and jumped off the couch and stalked to the door of the bookshop as Aziraphale followed and called out, "Crowley? What is it? Where are you going?"

But his cries fell onto deaf ears.  
Crowley was too busy throwing his boots on and yanking his arms through the sleeves of his coat.  
Aziraphale's lips formed a thin line and he followed suit, he grabbed his topcoat and winter coat and quickly followed Crowley as he slunk out the door. 

Aziraphale scurried along Crowley's side in silence as the demon walked briskly to St. James and just began walking the paths there.

Crowley raised an eyebrow as he caught the glint coming off Aziraphale's ring as he fiddled with it. He sighed, he knew he was worrying his friend, but he didn't know what to say.  
He was trying to think of a way to start the explanation to Aziraphale, explain it all.  
But Aziraphale didn't know about the nightmares, not until now anyway.

He saw a bench that they were approaching and tried to buck up the courage to spill his guts once they reached it.  
They had lapped the park three times since they left the bookshop, mindful of Aziraphale keeping up with him he had slowed his pace enough so the angel wouldn't get winded or hurt, but he had wanted to run.

Wanted to run from all these bloody emotions running through him, more fervently than when armageddon was approaching, and he didn't like it.

The bench was within sitting distance now and Crowley plopped onto one end and just melted himself over it. One arm slung over the back, the other slung over his face making his sunglasses press into his skin.  
His legs sprawled out in front and his torso slid halfway down the length of the bench.

Aziraphale stood looking at him for a moment, and then he sat next to him on the bench, straight backed, hands in front of him. Looked rapt for attention sharing straight ahead, but he was distracted. Crowley could tell with the way he was fiddling with the ring.

Crowley took a few deep breaths, he could see Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye. What he saw still took his breath away. 

Ever since Eden this bastard has taken his breath away.

His hair like an earthly halo on his head, bright and blonde and curling, circling around him.  
His big blue eyes like the clear blue of the cosmos, the deep blue of the sea, the light petal blue of hydrangeas, currently washing in waves of different emotions, but worry was painted on his face. 

His beautiful face.  
Oh gods how Crowley loved that face, the eyes that crinkled when the angel smiled, showing the joys of the thousands of years they had spent on earth.  
The grooves that appeared on his forehead when he was perplexed, which he rarely, of ever admitted to.  
His smile, by itself was dazzling, with all the rest of his face, sometimes it just hurt to look at him, especially that extra fold of skin just under his chin it was so cherubic.  
And the rest of him, almost utterly unbearable, the rolling waves of warmth and kindness that he exuberated to the world, the humans, the animals, even to him, a demon, right from the start of creation. 

Crowley groaned dramatically, Aziraphale used to these groans as a foundation to a deeper conversation, looked at Crowley, and was patient.

As he watched the demon take a few deep breaths Aziraphale looked at the tempting beauty that was his friend.  
Long limbed, slender, fashionable, exuding a sense of cool out to the world, but Aziraphale knew the rest of the demon, not just his gifts that he had been given to use as temptations. 

He knew that when he bounced his leg up and down he was racked with anxieties that he tried to put out of his mind, sure that the constant motions would shoo them out of his mind.  
He knew that when he bit his bottom lip that he had something that he needed to say, but was so afraid to he had to force his mouth to stay closed until he was ready.  
He knew that when he laughed it wasn't genuine unless he threw his head back. Those laughs were special, those ones were unexpected laughs.  
He knew that when he was so stressed he couldn't sleep or even find joy in his television shows, plants, or knitting, that he'd take a pair shears to his hair, and usually ring up Aziraphale an hour later to even out or fix it when he had butchered it.  
He knew that this demon was so secretly nice that he would purchase Bentley-loads of stuffed animals to donate to the children's home every Christmas to make sure the kids had something to call their own.

Aziraphale continued to look at Crowley as the demon gathered his thoughts and unjumbled them enough to form a cohesive sentence.

"Sorry, if I er, woke you." He finally stuttered out.  
Grimacing with the comment he uttered, he knew Aziraphale didn't sleep, but it seemed like a good opener.

"You didn't, don't worry." Aziraphale said gently, his voice encouraging Crowley to continue. 

Crowley took a deep breath, and with it's release a flood of words tumbled out from between his lips.  
"Ever since the bookshop fire I sometimes have nightmares about that day, about coming here and finding the fire, thinking it was hellfire, not being able to see you, to sense you, and thinking you were dea-gone." 

Aziraphale tried to keep his face clear of the emotions flitting through his mind at that admission, a deep ache started in the bottom of his stomach, and a little flutter in his chest.

"After my fall... there were plenty of bad days. I mean purely shit days. But, that was the worst day in Creation, the worst day of my whole stupid insufferable life. The worst thing, the worst thing they could do, worst thing I could do, was let them get you..." Crowley said very softly, his lips trembling, he reached up to cover his eyes with his hands.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, try and get a handle on his emotions, try to keep the tears that were welling in his eyes from falling. He couldn't get anything under control, his mind kept flashing to the nightmare he had had, the nightmare he had lived.

Aziraphale ached to comfort his dear dear friend, who was still racked with guilt and fear. As he watched Crowley cover his face and rock back and forth a bit, he instinctively reached up.

As Crowley took big breaths he felt a warm softness touch his wrist, and he let that hand fall from his face, wet with tears, into the hands of his angel.

Aziraphale held Crowley's hand in both of his, feeling the evidence of his feelings in the wetness there. He held his hand gently in one of his, and with the other he carefully traced the delicate skin of the top of his hand.

A warmth soaked into Crowley's skin, either by osmosis or angelic miracle, and soothed his essence, the warmth traveled serenely through his body, making it's way to his heart, where it made itself home, and it radiated there.  
He breathed in deep letting the warmth fill his lungs and throat, and sighed.

He looked at Aziraphale, who was still tracing his bony hand with his plump ones, a sad smile dancing across his lips, his eyes gleaming a bit with his own tears.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, and I'm sorry you still have to go through it. " Aziraphale murmured to Crowley.  
"But I am here, and I always will be here." He said.

Then without a second thought he brought Crowley's hand up to his lips and softly kissed it along his knuckles.

Electricity shot through Crowley with that tender placement of angelic lips, and he turned his head and stared at Aziraphale. 

He was here, and he wasn't going anywere.

Crowley turned his torso to face the angel, and with his other hand reached up and traced the side of his chubby face with his fingertips.

"I was so afraid that I lost you, I'm still afraid of it." He murmured as he placed his hand on the side of the Angel's face and traced his cheek with his thumb. 

"I can reassure you, in the highest regard, that I will never leave you." Aziraphale said in a low tone that rose over a lump in his throat. A tear slowly leaking out of the corner of his eye.

Crowley's thumb wiped the tear away, and he felt the tears welling in his eyes again, and he gave out a small sob.

Aziraphale opened his arms wide and brought Crowley to his soft chest.  
Crowley buried his face there, just at the Angel's breastbone, angel cushioned his face as he pressed against Aziraphale. His long arms wrapped around the Angel's wide middle, he was enveloped in softness.  
As he took shaky breaths in and out Aziraphale ran one hand through the crop of red hair that was still mussed from sleep.  
The feel of his fingers twining through his hair relaxed and soothed Crowley to the point of the demon just breathing in Aziraphale's scent and closing his eyes. 

They sat like that for hours, Aziraphale holding Crowley as he tried to help him out run the nightmares from before.  
Crowley burying his face into Aziraphale and in his scent, never wanting to be away from it.

Once more people arrived at the park, the movement and noise shook them out of their shared trances.  
Crowley slowly rose as the band at a close by gazebo began playing an insufferable cover of a Queen song.  
He looked at Aziraphale, taking in everything, the dull feeling after a cry session washing over him, almost covering him like a blanket.  
Aziraphale likewise looked at Crowley, his heart bursting with a need to protect him, the ache to hold him longer to reassure him that all was well. And it would always be well.  
Now that they had Their side.

Wordlessly the two rose together and headed in a direction, whatever direction, it didn't matter, but conveniently it was the same direction as the Ritz. As they walked along the pathway, the leaves slushed beneath their feet since the frost had melted.  
The sun was barely peeking between bits of the gray swath of sky, noises of the daytime could be heard around them.

As they walked Crowley's arms swung in sync with his steps, flailing freely.  
Aziraphale smiled to himself, knowing that this alone was a good indicator that his mind space was better.

The angel let his arms fall to his sides, and meticulously mirrored the movement of Crowley's arms to fit in sync, and then taking a breath, reached out.

Crowley's pulse jumped when his hand was gently grasped by Aziraphale's.  
He went slightly stiff for a moment, and then just relaxed, letting the warmth coming from the angel spread through him, and he laced his long slender fingers in the spaces between Aziraphales short pudgy fingers.

The pair did not let go of each other's hands.

Not when they arrived at The Ritz.  
They sat at the table this way, hand upon hand, gazing at each other, smiling st each other with occasionally tear blurred eyes.  
Not when they walked back to the bookshop.  
The snow had started to fall as they walked back to the bookshop, but a warmth glowed from the pair of them like a beacon.  
Not when they sat together on the sofa, a blanket thrown over them.  
The closed sign flipped onto the bookshop door, and twin cups of cocoa sitting on the table, next to a pair of sunglasses, all within reach.  
Not when they each started to drift off into sleep.  
Nuzzled up together, arms wrapped around each other, faces buried in softness and in crimson, hand in hand.

Not ever.


End file.
